


i love to go a-wandering, with anyone but you

by Schistosity



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Humor, Incredibly Misinformed Wilderness Survival, Light Angst, Team Bonding, The Gang Go on a Life Changing Field Trip, just a sprinkle because i'm me, seriously don't take any of this as advice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25356757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schistosity/pseuds/Schistosity
Summary: After a series of school events end in disaster, Edelgard, Dimitri and Claude are forced into a weekend-long “team-bonding” camping retreat in order to keep their positions as heads of house.Two days of hiking, fishing, sleeping out under the stars, and trying not to rip each other’s throats out for petty bullshit along the way? What could go wrong?Or, it’s a lovely morning in Garreg National Park, and you are horrible teens.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 48
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me, the product of a house-based public school system: I have the forbidden knowledge. I hold the keys. 
> 
> Half of me craves modern AUs with deep dives into house systems and half of me just thinks it's really funny that Edelgard canonically tried to have Claude and Dimitri killed on a school trip. This bonkers gen shit is my niche.

_“Never go on trips with anyone you do not love.”_ — Ernest Hemingway

* * *

“Claude started it.”

The first thing out of Edelgard’s mouth is an accusation. Seteth isn’t even finished sitting down behind his desk. Claude wonders if this is a new record.

Seteth pauses and raises a single eyebrow before taking a seat. He eases himself into his padded office chair, the afternoon light and sound of homebound students spilling in through his open window in equal measure, almost taunting the three students lined up like inmates inside.

“Are you under the impression I was born yesterday, Miss Hresvelg?”

He steeples his fingers, shifting into full disappointed vice-principal mode.

“I don’t care who started it,” he says in a stern voice. “I am finishing it. Right now.”

The trio say nothing else, but Edelgard still doesn’t sit.

Seteth ignores her. “You three are here because, for the third time in as many months, Garreg Mach High School is facing a potential ban from a city venue for disorderly conduct.”

“With respect, _sir,_ ” Edelgard says in a way that suggests respect is not the primary thing she’d like to be bringing to this discussion. “I will stand by the fact most of today’s damages arose by fault of the Golden Deer.”

Seteth sighs and reaches over to shake his computer mouse, lighting the monitor up.

“That’s untrue, Miss Hresvelg,” he says mildly, “and since you seem so _keen_ to discuss, let’s go over _your_ house’s share of the blame first.”

He turns the monitor around, revealing a document titled ‘BLACK EAGLES DISCIPLINARY RECORD’. There are… a lot of bullet points. Edelgard’s eyes widen.

Letting the ensuing conversation wash over him, Claude scratches absently at the dry paint on his cheek, sending little flakes of yellow cascading onto the arm of the uncomfortable office chair he’s been allocated to. Edelgard is still out of her own seat, breaking the conformity of their little prisoner line-up to lean on Seteth’s desk as she attempts to debate him.

Behind her back, Claude tries to make eye contact with Dimitri, who is very pointedly trying _not_ to look at him, and is instead vacantly staring at where Seteth’s faded doctorate is hanging on the far wall. Eventually he does look over, though, and Claude pins down his attention with a smile.

 _You’ve-got-a-little-something-on-your-face,_ he mouths and circles his finger around his own eye.

Dimitri frowns, which crinkles the blue war paint on his cheeks, but more notably the giant red handprint streaking over his right eye and partially gluing his eyelashes together. Claude doesn’t know who got him in the end, but whoever it was had _impeccable_ aim.

Dimitri holds a finger up to shush Claude, exposing a streak of yellow paint up his wrist. Claude smiles even wider.

“Mr. Blaiddyd,” Seteth says lightly, jolting Dimitri to attention. “Do you have something to add to the discussion?”

Dimitri looks like he’d rather be hit by a bus than add something to the discussion. “No, sir.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m almost finished reviewing the Black Eagles’ infractions, perhaps I could start on the Blue Lions?”

“No, uh, that’s okay, sir. You should finish with the Eagles first.”

Edelgard whirls on her step-brother, paint-streaked hair snapping behind her in anger.

“Coward,” she hisses. “Throw me to the dogs why don’t you?!”

Her cheeks are covered in swirling red designs, but there’s a torrent of tacky yellow down the front of her PE uniform that looks like someone threw an entire cup of paint at her.

The person that threw an entire cup of paint at her rolls his eyes.

“Oh _please_. Those are bold words from the girl whose house deputy brought an _effigy_ to a fucking inter-house sports day,” Claude says and Edelgard’s eagle-glare snaps to him. “Where does Hubert think we go to school, exactly? Burning Man?”

“He didn’t _light_ it,” she protests. “And besides, who was it that _crucified_ our house mascot on the grandstand?”

Claude closes his mouth and narrows his eyes.

“Maybe Addie the Eaglet deserved it.”

Edelgard’s voice is deathly calm. “Take that back right now.”

Dimitri chuckles, more than a little darkly, breaking the tension between his fellow house leaders. “I think it’s clear _both_ of your houses displayed terrible conduct today. It’s clearly going to affect Garreg Mach’s image for a long time to come.”

“You little snake!” Claude cries, jabbing a finger in Dimitri’s direction. “Don’t act like you’re not a part of this!”

“Exactly!” Edelgard says haughtily. “At least _my housemates_ weren’t the ones digging a hole on the field for _pit_ _fights_.”

“Hey! I am _not_ responsible for Fight Hole,” Dimitri protests, rising out of his chair. “That was entirely Felix.”

“You guys _named_ it?!” Claude asks incredulously.

“ENOUGH!”

Seteth’s shout rips through the air like a knife. He reaches into his top desk drawer and pulls out a comically thick manilla folder. Sheafs of paper inside are marked by an assortment of coloured sticky tabs, a foreboding range of red, yellow, and blue.

He drops it on his desk with a slam.

Edelgard sits down.

“Time and time again,” Seteth begins, flicking through the folder, “I have to write your house members up for disciplinary breaches that you, as leaders, are supposed to _avoid_ , not _foster_. And yet _time and time again_ you enable your classmates to commit acts that damage property, reputation, and _self_ all for the sake of a competition that has gone from friendly rivalry to unmitigated chaos.”

He begins to list as he flicks.

“The orientation weekend. The inter-house food festival. The inter-house swim meet. The performing arts festival. If I cannot trust you three to run student-led events with a level of maturity befitting the smart young adults you are _supposed_ to be, what is the point of having them at all?”

He flips past a stack of other infractions, landing on the most recent page, which contain only handwritten notes and a printed out email.

“Today. Inter-house sports day. Multiple fire hazards, attempted theft of a forklift, pit fighting, and the vandalism of rental property. The Gronder Trust Sports Grounds have partnered with this school for years and now they’re threatening to _permanently_ cut ties because you and your peers decided to, amongst other things, empty _gallons_ of acrylic paint into the stands for the purposes of what exactly?”

“Paint war,” they all say in small voices. It’s not so funny anymore. The paint slathered in their skin and clothes grows dry and uncomfortable.

Seteth puts his head in his hands.

“You were chosen as heads of house by the staff and the board of trustees because of your exemplary academic records and the support of your peers as student community leaders.” He looks up at them with stormy eyes tempered by fatigue. “It appears that I need to remind you that these positions were _given_ to you and can _very_ easily be taken away if you are deemed unfit, and this—”

He taps the folder.

“—is not only enough to deem you unfit for _this_ position, but enough to deem you unfit for any position of its kind in the future. Am I being clear?”

They nod.

“Now then. The board of trustees is willing to excuse these infractions as long as you three agree to participate in a counselling program of our choice.”

“Counselling?” Claude finds his voice. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. “Are you for real?”

“D—Dr. Cichol, sir,” Dimitri blurts, looking frantic. “I can’t—”

Seteth raises his hand for silence again.

“This is effectively a PR gesture. It will look good if the board can say the school’s heads undertook team-building activities together. It’s not… real counselling. Just… going through the motions. But they are required if you want to keep your roles here.”

He reaches into the desk drawer again.

“We’ve actually been sitting on this for a while,” he says, and for the first time that afternoon his lips curl into something like a smile. It’s not comforting. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll have fun.”

He tosses a brochure onto the desk. All three heads of house lean in.

“Oh _God_ ,” Dimitri says finally. “You _cannot_ be serious…”

* * *

**To:** Claude Riegan <c.riegan@gmhs.student.edu>, Dimitri Blaiddyd <d.blaiddyd@gmhs.student.edu>, Edelgard Hresvelg <e.hresvelg@gmhs.student.edu>  
**From:** Manuela Casagranda <m.casagranda@gmhs.edu>  
**Subject:** FWD: INFORMATION FOR INCOMING CAMPERS!

Enjoy your trip, kids!

xx  
Manuela

\--Forwarded Message--

 **To:** Manuela Casagranda <m.casagranda@gmhs.edu>  
**From:** Remire Recreations <bookings@remirerec.com>

Hey there, Happy Campers!

Welcome to Remire Recreations: Outdoor Retreats! We’re celebrating 20 years of helping young people along the path to becoming leaders of tomorrow, and we’re excited to have you join us!

Set against the backdrop of scenic Garreg National Park, our award-winning Troubled Youth program, focused on group-counselling and natural exploration, seeks to help you uncover the full potential in your relationships with your peers. Our three-day retreat will take you into the heart of one of the nation’s most beautiful parks, supervised by an experienced counsellor and guide, where you will take part in fun and challenging team-building exercises with your new friends to foster more positive, healthy communication as a group!

Attached are the equipment lists and Health & Safety information that must be submitted to us via your school/club/workplace before the beginning of your retreat!

Looking forward to having you on board!

Brenda H.  
Events coordinator, Remire Recreations.

**To:** Seteth Cichol <setethcichol80@hotmail.com>  
**From:** Claude Riegan <c.reigan@gmhs.student.edu>  
**Subject:** TROUBLED YOUTH??? HELLO????

can i ask for jail time instead? community service?

claude <3

 **To:** Claude Riegan <c.reigan@gmhs.student.edu>  
**From:** Seteth Cichol <setethcichol80@hotmail.com>  
**Subject:** RE: TROUBLED YOUTH??? HELLO???

No.

Please delete this email address.

 **To:** Seteth Cichol <setethcichol80@hotmail.com>  
**From:** Claude Riegan <c.reigan@gmhs.student.edu>  
**Subject:** RE: RE: TROUBLED YOUTH??? HELLO????

</3

**To:** Seteth Cichol <setethcichol80@hotmail.com>  
**From:** Dimitri Blaiddyd <d.blaiddyd@gmhs.student.edu>  
**Subject:** Remire Rec Trip

Dear Dr. Cichol,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to send you the completed health and safety form for the upcoming trip. You will find it attached.

On more of a personal note, I have several medications that will need to be taken over the weekend and there wasn’t a place to write about them on the form. Do I need to write to Remire Recreations directly or is that something you are supposed to do? They are for mental health rather than physical ailments and I know sometimes this is unfortunately a problem for some businesses, so I am quite concerned about this. Please get back to me as soon as you can.

I am very stressed.

Thank you,  
Dimitri.

 **To:** Dimitri Blaiddyd <d.blaiddyd@gmhs.student.edu>  
**From:** Seteth Cichol <setethcichol80@hotmail.com>  
**Subject:** Re: Remire Rec Trip

Dimitri,

Thank you for your promptness. I will speak to the people at Remire about it but it should be fine, don’t worry. If it is a problem we will sort something out. I will not allow a student to go without their necessary health needs.

Also please delete this email address.

Regards,  
Seteth.

**To:** Seteth Cichol <setethcichol80@hotmail.com>  
**From:** Edelgard Hresvelg <e.hresvelg@gmhs.student.edu>  
**Subject:** H&S Forms

Dr. Cichol,

Please find attached the health and safety forms for the Remire retreat. I have also attached the full text of the Child Civil Rights Act 2017 for your perusal.

Good day,  
Edelgard.

 **To:** Edelgard Hresvelg <e.hresvelg@gmhs.student.edu>  
**From:** Seteth Cichol <setethcichol80@hotmail.com>  
**Subject:** RE: H&S Forms

Edelgard,

I’m not reading that. You are going on the trip.

Is someone giving out my email address? Please delete this from your contacts immediately and use my school email from now on.

Regards,  
Seteth.

* * *

An assembly is held the following morning.

Seteth informs the student body that all inter-house and off-campus activities are suspended until further notice. He also tells them that they are all in a lot of trouble, and they should all be disappointed in themselves for their behaviour.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the camping trip—about the fact their heads’ titles are in the balance.

The heads of house deliver student notices and do not look at each other the entire time. Seteth hasn’t mentioned their punishment and neither will they. If they’re lucky, they’ll be able to make it to the weekend without anyone finding out what they’re being made to do.

They make fleeting eye contact when they return to their seats, to their houses, separated into three milling, even seas of students in the auditorium. Across churning waters, violet, green, and blue lock for the briefest of moments.

They’re going to be breaking news by the end of the day.

Leonie clears her throat. _“What is the soft spot on a baby’s head called?”_

“The _what_ —”

“The fontanelle.”

“Sorry, Hilda,” Leonie announces, tucking the card away. “Point for Claude.”

“Shit.”

The table at the back of Hanneman’s Calculus class is a designated senior student zone, made valuable by its position out of the front desk’s line of sight, and overtaken with impunity whenever older students needed to play street rules Trivial Pursuit and gossip.

It is one such occasion during midday classes. Claude, Hilda, Leonie, and Marianne have holed themselves up to talk primarily about Hilda’s latest boy drama, but after she’d exhausted herself after ten minutes of ranting, the conversation had slipped elsewhere.

Marianne, ever the dutiful scorekeeper, slides Claude one of the colourful dice they’re using in lieu of the traditional pie wedges and he places it on top of his pile. It’s a lot bigger than Hilda’s, which is the only important thing in street rules Trivial Pursuit. He’s so busy stacking it takes him a moment to realise Leonie is saying something.

“Wassat?”

“I was asking if you want to come with us to the river on Saturday,” Leonie repeats. “Iggy finally got our inner tubes fixed and it’s supposed to be sunny.”

“I can’t,” Claude says. “I’m booked up the whole weekend.”

Leonie narrows her eyes and purses her lips, not satisfied with his lack of explanation, but before she can speak, Hilda pipes up.

“Ohoho!” She chirps, batting her long (probably fake) lashes over a makeshift fan of discarded question cards. “A prior engagement! It must be something of _incredible_ importance if it’s dragging you, our dearest _head boy_ , away from the allure of inner-tubing with _my_ beautiful self for a whole _two days!”_

Claude rolls his eyes. “Who told you?”

“Sylvain.”

“Sylvain doesn’t know shit. Who _actually_ told you?”

Hilda sighs, “He did!” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplative. “I heard from Sylvain who heard from Felix who heard from Annette who heard from Caspar who heard from Linhardt who heard from Dorothea who spent study period this morning with Manuela and saw her email to you or whatever.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Oh! Good to know this entire graduating class is a pack of rabid narks.”

“Wait, what is he doing?” Marianne asks meekly, looking up from the scorecard. “Am I missing something again?”

Leonie pats her on the arm. “Don’t worry Marianne, I don’t think anyone knows. Also—” she flips around one of the question cards “— _How many feet are in a fathom?”_

“I dunno,” Hilda says at the same time Claude says, “Six.”

Hilda hits him over the head with her fan of cards and Marianne quietly tallies another point in Claude’s score table.

“We got called in to Seteth’s yesterday after sports day went south,” Claude explains, not wanting Marianne to feel left out. “I don’t want to admit it but… things have been getting a _little_ out of hand with inter-house stuff…”

“A _little?”_ Leonie scoffs. “I won _ten dollars_ in the Lions’ fight pit before Alois shut it down.”

“So are you three doing something with the school?” Marianne asks. “Like weekend detention?”

“I _wish_ ,” Claude sighs. “They’re sending us on a “team-building camping retreat”—in _heavy_ air quotes, by the way—so the school board don’t strip us of our house leader positions. I think it’s designed for problem children or something? But I guess it was just the cheapest option they could get away with.”

“So you’re going into the woods and shit?” Leonie asks. “What’s even the point of that?”

“I think it’s just saving face. It’s easier to make us do some half-assed “let’s all get along” gesture than do all the public reshuffling of positions.”

“Have you told your family?” Marianne asks, lowering her voice. 

Claude feels the mood sour a little, and tries hard not to let that show on his face.

“No.”

The girls wince. Claude bites back the petty and defensive remark brewing on his tongue.

“What?! This is _nothing_. I’m not bothering them with it.”

“You’re not even telling your granddad?” Hilda asks.

“I’m _especially_ not telling him. Ideally he won’t ever find out!” Claude insists. “So don’t go talking about it outside of school, okay?”

His question is aimed at Hilda, because her brother knows his uncle and if that isn’t a path ripe for ill-advised gossip he doesn’t know what is. She seems to catch his drift, waving off the implication with her fan of cards.

“How are you gonna play this, then?” Leonie asks. “Permission slips and all?”

Claude makes a seesaw gesture with his hand. “I’ll forge the signature. Easy. I’ll get Judith to drop me off… tell her I’m going camping with some friends. It’ll be fine.”

They all give him Looks, the kinds with capital L’s, and he rolls his eyes.

“Please don’t feel sorry for me,” he says. “It’s just… it’s a delicate situation. I can handle it.”

“That’s exactly why I feel sorry for you,” Hilda mumbles.

“Hilda…”

“That and the fact you’re going to be stuck with the royal terrors for an entire weekend.”

“Dimitri isn’t… he’s not _that_ bad,” Claude says with far more confidence than he actually possesses on the matter. He doesn’t know Dimitri very well, despite being in his Biology class. All he knows about the guy is that he’s polite to the point of it being annoying.

“He’s nice,” Marianne says quietly. Claude nods; if Marianne is willing to give someone her blessing like that they can’t be _all_ horrible.

“He’s _nice_ but he’s not much else, as far as I can reckon,” Hilda says. “It’s Edelgard you’ll have to _really_ worry about. Little Miss Ice Queen decided to hate your guts the moment she met you and you know it.”

Claude privately agrees, but he doesn’t say it. What he does say is: “It’ll be fine. You’re overreacting.”

And then: “ _I’ll_ be fine.”

It’s not very convincing.

* * *

**Sarah McKinney** @addiestanaccount

Hearing some crazy rumours about our heads of house here at GMHS lol!! I get that they don’t get along but what’s a camping trip supposed to do about the Lions stealing our microwave?

 **sword emoji** @f3l1xfr4ld4r1u5  
Replying to @addiestanaccount

nah i heard they’re gonna b hunting each other for sport. no microwaves for dead heads lol. real thunderdome shit.

 **Sarah McKinney** @addiestaaccount  
Replying to @f3l1xfr4ld4r1u5

Who is this??

* * *

“Sylvain!”

“Wuh-woah!” Sylvain cries. “Am I in twouble?”

“Care to explain yourself?” Dimitri asks in lieu of hello, slamming the door to the Blue Lions common room behind him with the aura of an angry bull who has Places To Be.

Sylvain twists around from his perch on the couch so he’s sitting up straight, and leans back as Dimitri strides forward. “I’d love to? Gonna need more context, bud.”

Dimitri comes to a stop and looks down at Sylvain with a glare.

“Do you want to tell me why three freshman girls just wished me luck for the weekend? They said you were _ever so worried_ about me.”

He has the attention of the entire room now. Annette and Felix look over from where they’re doing some kind of craft with popsicle sticks and PVA glue. Ashe peeks up from over the edge of a book. Dedue is the only one that attempts to make his move to watch subtle. He mostly just raises an eyebrow, shooting Dimitri a glance that says ‘blink twice and I can hold him down while you interrogate him’. 

Sylvain’s mouth makes an understanding little ‘O’ shape, and then he laughs.

“Dude! They’re obviously just concerned about your upcoming wilderness adventure! Like myself!” He says it in a nonchalant tone, though his not-so-subtle move to scooch a little farther away from Dimitri while he speaks hampers the carefree persona a little. “Nobody wants our favourite head boy dying in the forest!”

Dimitri has now shifted from angry bull to disgruntled mother of three. He plants his hand on his hip. “Did it not occur to you that we might want to keep something like this _quiet_ _?”_

“Hey! It could’ve been way worse, man. Felix told me you guys were going to be killing each other Most Dangerous Game-style. At least I did everyone the liberty of correcting the story before I spread it.”

“Felix?” Dimitri whirls on the perpetrator. “Who told _you?”_

Narrow amber eyes peer at him from behind a tower of precariously glued popsicle sticks. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?”

“It was me!” Annette whines, breaking under absolutely no pressure. “Caspar told me and I was worried about you and I thought Felix might know something!”

“I didn’t,” Felix reports solemnly. “Which is interesting considering I fucking _live with you_ , asshole. Have you told dad?”

Dimitri purses his lips. “Of course I have, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Wait, so Hilda was right?” Ashe chirps, cutting of the potential for an argument to brew. “You three are really going _camping_ together?”

Dimitri decides, with great difficulty, to brush past the fact Hilda apparently has access to this information too.

“We are. This weekend. It’s with a company that does team-building programs. If I don’t do it they’re going to replace me as head of house.”

Annette gasps. “Maybe you’ll all become friends! That would be nice!”

“I’ve got twenty on grievous bodily harm by Saturday night,” Ashe says, going back to his book.

“I’ll get in on that,” says Sylvain. Annette looks aghast.

As bets are placed and Annette desperately tries to keep it together, Dimitri sinks into the seat next to Dedue with a sigh. After a moment he leans his head against his shoulder.

“You seem tired,” his deputy says.

“I am.”

“I would offer to take your place in a heartbeat, I hope you know. But I have a feeling that’s not quite the point of this lesson.”

Dimitri huffs. “Oh, it’s a lesson now? What am I supposed to be learning from hiking for three days with a sister that hates me and a guy I saw eating litmus paper in Biology last week?”

“I suppose that will be up to you. But there’s always something to learn from troublesome places,” Dedue says. Wisely. He’s wise. “Would you like half of my sandwich, Dimitri?”

Super wise.

Dimitri nods. “Thank you, Dedue.”

It’s a very good sandwich.

“I’m sorry about Fight Hole.”

The admission shocks Dimitri enough to make him look up from his phone. He stares at Felix. The two of them are like unflinching rocks amongst a current of homebound students, waiting for Rodrigue on the kerb after school. Felix looks straight ahead as if he hadn’t spoken.

“Are you really?” Dimitri asks.

Felix has to think about it for a moment before he shrugs. “Well, _no_ ,” he admits. “I’m just… sorry to the extent it ended up getting you stuck with Claude and your stick-up-her-ass sister for a whole weekend. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even Sylvain.”

Dimitri frowns. This sentiment is not new; the entire day has been apologies and well wishes, like Claude and Edelgard are horrid gargoyles out for his blood.

“They’re not _that_ bad.”

“They _are_ ,” Felix says. “I have Chem with Claude and History with Edelgard. You think I don’t know how insufferable they can be? I swear to God you’d better not come back friends with either of them, okay? I don’t want their valedictorian cooties in my house.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Dimitri says idly. He catches Edelgard’s eye where she’s walking down the school’s front steps with Hubert and Dorothea in tow. Her gaze is piercing, as always, and he lets his eyes slip off her like water off feathers.

“Seriously though? Don’t worry about packs or anything I, uh,” Felix picks at his bag strap in a show of uncharacteristic hesitance—Dimitri gets the terrible feeling he knows where this is going. “I think we still have all of Glenn’s old hiking gear somewhere. Dad’ll know.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Rodrigue shows up then—the patron saint of timely interruptions—and Dimitri lets out a breath. The car has barely rolled to a stop before Felix yanks the door open.

“Good afternoon, _parent_ ,” he spits into the front seat. “Your foul secret-keeping has come to light at last.”

“Hi, Rodrigue,” Dimitri says, getting into the back. “Everyone at school found out about the retreat.”

“Oh _that_ was quick! I didn’t take you for much of a gossip, Felix,” Rodrigue remarks, waiting for both boys to get buckled in before pulling into the flow of traffic. He raises an eyebrow at Felix. “I guess my plan to take you to Ben and Jerry’s and break it to you gently over ice cream is kind of moot now?”

Felix—predictably—is spluttering at his father within seconds.

They pass Claude on the way home, pushing his bike along alone as Dimitri vaguely recalls he does every day. He raises his hand to wave at the other boy, but quickly remembers the backseat windows are tinted. In a world where Dimitri is a little bolder he might have rolled down the window low enough to say hello, but for now he stays put.

Claude looks… uncharacteristically serious. Dimitri doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

He turns away.

* * *

**Annette Dominic** sent a photo to **BAND CHAT [NON MEME VERSION]**

 **Caspar:** hmmm… explain??

 **Annette:** Sylvain is setting up a betting pool for camping trip predictions. Anyone want in? I’ve got five on them coming home as friends because I think it would be nice if that happened :)

 **Dorothea:** OOO!! I’ve got fifteen on Dimitri snapping before the second day :D

 **Caspar:** ten on edelgard tryin to kill the boys immediately

 **Annette:** I like my idea better :(

 **Lysithea:** Five on Claude bailing halfway through and driving himself home.

 **Lysithea:** Also this is the NON MEME CHAT can we please move this elsewhere??

* * *

“I’m _really_ sorry, Edie,” Dorothea says, leaning up against the locker next to Edelgard’s and frowning. “I promise the only person I told was Lin.”

“I forgive you, Dorothea,” Edelgard says, unable to keep the small smile off her face. Dorothea is an uncontrollable gossip when she wants to be and there’s no way she isn’t loving the buzz around the school.

“Oh, thank you!”

“This was bound to get out at some point.” Edelgard shrugs, pulling out a few notebooks. “But you _must_ have known that Linhardt tells Caspar everything and—”

“—and Caspar wouldn’t know a secret if it held him at knifepoint,” says a new voice, looming like a comfortable shadow over Edelgard’s shoulder.

Dorothea’s expression melts into something far more controlled and sinister as she appraises their new addition. “Good afternoon, Hubert. Your allegories are as colourful as ever.”

“It’s a gift,” Hubert says dryly. “Am I right in overhearing that you were the one who spread such baseless rumours about our head girl throughout the school?”

“You know deputy head is a fake job, right?” Dorothea says sweetly, ignoring the question. “I bet the Deer don’t have to take _inquisitions_ from Hilda.”

“I imagine the Deer don’t take much of anything from anyone,” Hubert retorts, “led as they are by the archduke of clowns and his malignant jester of a girlfriend.”

“You know, I don’t think they’re actually dating,” Edelgard says half-heartedly, stowing the rest of her books in her bag and shutting her locker. “Also, that’s a little rude, Hubert.”

Hubert grumbles but concedes, and Dorothea laughs. “Maybe you can ask Claude about it on the weekend,” she suggests. “Plenty of time for invasive gossip while you two and Prince Charming are roasting marshmallows and baring your souls to each other.”

Edelgard huffs a laugh and beckons the two of them to follow her as she starts walking away. Her lack of a rebuttal is explanation enough for Hubert, whose eyes widen in surprise.

“The rumours are true?”

Edelgard sighs. “Indeed. I apologise for not telling you but I have—predictably—had a lot on my mind today.”

“You _know_ I have questions then,” Hubert says emphatically.

“I’ll forward you all the information emails once I get home,” Edelgard assures. This seems to relax Hubert a little bit, which allows Dorothea to link her arm through Edelgard’s and pull her close.

They descend the steps at the front of school, opening up to throngs of students milling about waiting to go home. Edelgard feels her phone buzz in her pocket.

**Bernie:** edelgard!! ahh!! lin just texted the group!!

 **Bernie:** are you rly going camping on the weekend!! with dimitri and calude?? why???

 **Bernie:** *claude

 **Bernie:** u know there are bears and wolves in the county now I saw them on the news on friday please be safe!!

 **Bernie: :** O!!

“Perhaps it would be more pertinent to be scared of bears than boys this weekend,” Edelgard muses, sending Bernadetta a quick thumbs up and a ‘ttyl’ before slipping her phone back into her pocket.

Dorothea hums. “Perhaps. But with boys like these, who knows?”

The trio look down the stairs and lock eyes with Dimitri, who is standing next to Felix by the kerbside. He catches Edelgard’s eye and swiftly looks away. A few minutes later, a car pulls up and the boys get in.

“Dimitri isn’t a bad person,” Edelgard says, watching him climb into the back of Rodrigue’s car. “I just… I just haven’t spent a lot of time with him outside of school in many years. Being forced back together with no build up will be… interesting.”

In truth her relationship with her step-brother is a fitful and awkward one, imbalanced and unattractive to her. Hubert knows that, and Edelgard doesn’t feel like voicing it to Dorothea right now, so she leaves it at that.

“And Riegan?” Hubert asks dryly. “Perhaps he’s a dark horse in more ways than one. I have mace you can borrow in case he starts anything.”

Edelgard waves Hubert’s concern off. “I’m a _little_ wary about spending time in a potentially dangerous setting with someone who seems allergic to taking things seriously, but I don’t think he’s dangerous enough to warrant mace.”

Bears might be, though.

She spots the boy in question after that. Claude is off at the edge of the parking lot, unlatching his bike. He catches them staring and stares back.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t wink or preen or do anything Edelgard might have expected from him. He just stares, a little cold and empty, and then looks away. A rare show of… normalcy, really. 

“Maybe you can ask him why he always goes home by himself,” Dorothea mumbles, leaning against Edelgard’s shoulder.

Edelgard ponders the idea for a moment before stuffing it away. “Ideally I want to walk away from this experience knowing _less_ about them than I did walking in,” she says. Dorothea laughs, bright like a bell. The tension is gone.

“I shouldn’t be worried about you, Edie, you’ll knock ‘em dead!”

“Of course. I just have to make it through the weekend,” Edelgard says.

 _Two nights,_ she thinks. _How hard can it be?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [narrator voice] Very hard indeed. 
> 
> Bonus points to anyone who can guess which events mentioned in this chapter _aren't_ based on a real thing that happened at my school. 
> 
> The student dynamics in this fic are drawn almost 100% from the way school houses were run at my own high school. I’ve tried to make everything as self explanatory as possible, but if you have any questions about how stuff works feel free to ask!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the nice comments all! Loving all the speculation!
> 
> Still no hiking in this one, but we're getting there.

**To:** GMHS_SENIORS;  
**Cc:** Flayn Cichol <flayn.c.cichol@gmail.com>  
**From:** Sylvain Gautier <s.gautier@gmhs.student.edu>  
**Subject:** Camping Trip Bets [FINAL VERSION]

Hey all!

We are NO LONGER taking bets on the Camping Trip From Hell. The pool is officially closed! Thanks to everyone who got in on this! Our final tally has us sitting at a whopping $190 dollars!! You’re all monsters.

I am Cc-ing Flayn to act as our book-keeper so she’ll send you her bank details separately and you can transfer her your money when the time comes, but PLEASE no one try to give her the money in person!! If Seteth finds out we’re gambling we’re dead.

Also can someone forward this to Yuri? For some reason every time I put his school email in the thingy it deletes itself. Let him know we WILL take “abducted by mineshaft goblins” as a wager but he’s going to have to put at least SOME money down.

GOOOOO DRAGONS!!

Sylvain ;)

**Unknown ID [202-555-0147]:** $80 on the goblins pls sir

 **Unknown ID [202-555-0147]:** we’re allowed to interfere right?

 **Sylvain:** No Yuri

 **Unknown ID [202-555-0147]:** oh word?

 **Unknown ID [202-555-0147]:** $3 then lol

* * *

Dimitri thinks the greatest failing of adults, besides conservative politics and AM talk radio, is their unwillingness to humour the very important rivalries of their children.

“Dimitri, do you have everything packed in the car?” Rodrigue shouts from the other side of the house. There’s a thump. Dimitri doesn’t ask what it is. “We need to be at Claude’s by nine if we want to make good time!”

If Dimitri had not already been dreading the day of the hike, the fact Rodrigue had offered to drive Claude—who is ostensibly his enemy—to the trailhead would have been enough to send him over the edge on its own. And the worst part is it had kind of been Dimitri’s fault.

Dimitri, in all his infinite wisdom, had mentioned to Rodrigue that their way home often took them past Claude’s bike route. Rodrigue had responded to this by spotting Claude the next day, rolling down his window, and shouting out:

“Claude Riegan, right?”

“Yessir, that’s me,” Claude had said, tugging out an earbud. “And you are…?”

“Rodrigue Fraldarius, I’m Felix’s dad.”

Claude had grinned then, that same terrifying grin he’d had right before he’d slapped a palm full of yellow paint across Hubert’s face. Dimitri had _known_ the backseat windows were tinted, but he couldn’t help but feel like Claude had been looking _directly_ at him.

“Will you need a ride to the park on Friday?” Rodrigue had asked. “If you don’t have one lined up I’d be happy to pick you up on our way.”

It had been a wonder Claude’s response of “That would be great!” could be heard over Felix’s yelling.

At least Edelgard wouldn’t be joining them. As much as Dimitri desperately craves some sort of reconciliation with his sister, being trapped in a small car with her, Claude, and the greatest hits of Gordon Lightfoot is not the way he wants to spend his Friday morning.

And thus… Friday morning.

“Yes! Everything is packed!” Dimitri shouts at the approximate direction of Rodrigue’s voice. There’s an affirmative grunt in response so he turns his attention back to trying not to burn his tongue on his coffee.

“Is it really?” Felix asks around a bagel. “You have your jacket?”

“Yes.”

“First aid kit?”

“Yes.”

“Pills?”

“ _Yes_ —what _are_ you doing?” Dimitri sends Felix a questioning glare. Felix shrugs.

“Making sure you don’t die. I’m serious about the first aid kit. Mercedes was texting the group about it.”

“Sure.” Dimitri takes another sip and pretends it isn’t scalding.

Rodrigue comes stumbling into the kitchen. “Have either of you boys seen my wallet?”

“Front door,” Dimitri says at the same time Felix says, “You know, if you hadn’t offered to carpool our mortal enemy you wouldn’t have to be rushing like this.”

“Enemy?” Rodrigue laughs as he ducks down to the front hall.

“Yes! Enemy! Look at him—all… _golden_ and _deer-y_ —Where’s your dumb house pride or whatever? Making us _drive him_ when he probably has perfectly good parents to do it for him—”

“You’re taking this pretty seriously for someone who’s not even coming,” Dimitri cuts in.

“—I have classes with him,” Felix spits. “I’m dead fucking serious about not trusting him. He doesn’t take anything seriously and we don’t know shit about him.”

Dimitri thinks a little bit of privacy isn’t a good enough reason to distrust someone outright, but then again, he and Felix have never had privacy—he understands how it’s odd to look at someone and not know anything about them, when you yourself are so painfully known.

“We’re still talking about Claude?” Rodrigue appears around the corner, shrugging on a jacket. “His parents are overseas and he lives with his grandfather, that’s why I offered to drive him—Felix, can I have a bite of your bagel?”

Felix gapes as he hands the bagel over. “How could you _possibly_ know that?”

“Oswald Riegan is on the city council and I’m an old person; that’s our entire source of gossip—” he takes a bite and tosses the bagel back, “—did you two _not_ know that? You go to school with him.”

“He’s the enemy,” Felix says, like it’s an answer. Dimitri’s answer is just that he hasn’t spent nearly enough time around Claude in a manner that wasn’t a highly competitive school event to know _anything_ about him. In fact, he’s learned more about the guy in the last ten seconds than he had in the year he’s known him. He keeps that quiet, though.

Rodrigue laughs. “Well, enemy or no, my _house pride_ thinks if you want to keep your position as head boy you’re going to have to stop offering all this suspicion and start offering olive branches.”

His statement is aimed squarely at Dimitri, who had thought up to this point he had been doing a pretty good job of avoiding the conversation. Apparently not.

“Which means…?” Rodrigue continues, letting the question hang.

Oh good. A _question_.

“Giving him a ride?” Dimitri wagers.

Rodrigue ruffles his hair. “We’ll make a functioning adult of you yet.”

They pull up to Claude’s address at 9:05 and Dimitri tries his best not to look surprised. He wasn’t sure where he’d expected Claude to live—A code-violating houseboat? A haunted treehouse?—but it certainly wasn’t a modest, brick townhouse near the riverfront. It’s nice; its garden is small but well kept, and there are flowers in the window boxes. There’s a wheelchair access ramp at the front door, and Dimitri can see Claude’s bike chained up down the side alley.

“Remember,” Rodrigue says as Dimitri opens the door. _“Olive branches.”_

Dimitri walks up to the front door, casting only one glance back at Rodrigue for moral support, and knocks.

After a few seconds, he hears the stomping of feet and a muffled curse.

“I already told you, we’re _not_ interested—” says the voice on the other side, and the door is yanked open to reveal Claude, dishevelled and annoyed, “—Oh! Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Dimitri replies. They blink at each other for a moment.

“We’ve, uh, been having a lot of Mormons lately,” Claude explains.

“That’s… fair,” Dimitri says dumbly. _Fuck,_ he thinks. “I’m sorry for not calling ahead but I don’t, uh, have your number?”

Dimitri hopes Claude feels as awkward as he does, but if that’s the case he’s not showing it anymore. He just laughs and steps back.

“All good. I’ll just grab my pack—wait here a second.”

Claude turns on his heel and dashes down the hall.

“Godfrey! Gramps!” Dimitri hears Claude yell into the bowels of the house. “I’m leaving!”

Dimitri has no clue who Godfrey is, and there’s no discernible answer to Claude’s call from either of his targets, but even so his eye is drawn down the hall.

The townhouse reminds him a little of where he’d lived before his father had married Patricia—small and cozy—though this place differs in that there are far fewer family pictures on the walls and toys littering the floor. There’s far fewer anything, really; no pictures, no extraneous furniture or any clothes beyond two pairs of shoes and a winter coat hanging at the door.

It feels a little… empty.

There’s no movement until a few moments later, when a loud thumping precedes Claude stumbling down the stairs and out the door like a tornado, shouldering a pack and trying to hop into a pair of boots at the same time.

“Are you okay?” Dimitri blurts out. “There’s no rush, really.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Claude says. “Just wanna get going, you know?”

“You good to go?” A voice calls from Dimitri’s left. He jumps a little, and turns to see a tall man with dark hair and familiar green eyes rounding the side of the house. Dimitri would maybe mistake the man for Claude’s father if Rodrigue hadn’t mentioned his parents were overseas.

“Oh, _that’s_ where you were,” Claude says. “I’m all set, G-man, don’t worry.”

He only has one boot on, but he still delivers his lie with confidence.

“Don’t forget this.” The man unslings a long, thin bag from his shoulder and tosses it into Claude’s open arms. Dimitri sees a highly detailed embroidered logo on the side that reads ‘FAILNAUGHT’. He has no earthly clue what it could be.

“And _remember_ : Don’t kill the mayor’s daughter,” the man and Claude say at the same time. Claude winks and the man rolls his eyes fondly before the younger trots down the steps. The man gives him a little wave and turns back around.

Dimitri stands there and wonders if that’s what counts as a goodbye in Claude’s household, before he realises he has the keys to the car and chases after his classmate.

“Who was that?” Dimitri notes when he catches up with Claude. “Rodrigue mentioned you live with your grandfather, but…?”

Dimitri unlocks the boot and lifts the door, allowing Claude free roam to squeeze his bag in.

“That was my uncle, Godfrey,” Claude replies. “He’s not usually around, but he’s looking after my granddad while I’m away.”

There’s an implication there, regarding what the situation is when Godfrey _isn’t_ here, that Dimitri is tempted to chase. But he’s interrupted by Claude.

“Are we picking up Edelgard?” he asks. Dimitri shakes his head.

“No, I think her dad is driving her.”

“Oh, yeah. She doesn’t live with you, then?” It’s a question with an obvious answer, but the dance of small talk demands it, so Dimitri obliges.

“No. I’m with Felix and Rodrigue. She’s with her dad.”

Claude tosses the ‘Failnaught’ bag into the boot and shuts the door.

“That’s kinda cool that you and Felix live together. He’s a fun guy.”

Dimitri has never heard anyone call Felix ‘fun’ before, but at the same time it seems too unusual of a compliment to be a fake one; if Claude had been trying to make Dimitri feel better he probably would have gone for something more believable… like ‘passionate’, said with a grimace.

“If you don’t mind me asking, though, why is that?” Claude continues. “Are your parents split or overseas or something?”

Dimitri is glad he isn’t holding anything, because he’s pretty sure he would have dropped it.

_No way._

It hits Dimitri all at once that for as little as he knows about Claude—whose year-long tenure in the school had left him entirely a mystery—Claude knows _just as little_ about him. The idea is almost incomprehensible.

“Oh,” Dimitri blurts stupidly. “My parents are dead, actually—E-Edelgard’s mom and my dad.”

For however uncomfortable Dimitri feels, Claude certainly looks it. His eyes go wide and his jaw snaps shut. His gaze flicks briefly to Dimitri’s before darting away. The silence is sudden and sharp and stifling.

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” Claude says. “I didn’t know.”

 _How?!_ Dimitri wants to ask.

Dimitri’s life had fallen apart when he was fourteen years old. This was earlier than most people have their lives fall apart, but Dimitri had always been told he was a bit of an early bloomer.

In the aftermath, Dimitri hadn’t been able to hold himself together well enough to not become a person of interest—not in the gossipy rat’s nest of public high school he was so deftly coming up in. In many ways this was almost a good thing, because it meant the worst and most alienating thing about Dimitri was already out in the open.

He’d almost forgotten what it felt like—to have to introduce someone to that side of himself first-hand.

When he doesn’t say anything, Claude seems to take that as some kind of admonishment.

“I’m already making the worst impression and we’re not even in the car yet,” he mutters. “Great job, Riegan.”

“You’re okay,” Dimitri assures him, and Claude finally meets his eyes. “Most people at school know. It was pretty public, I guess… I just assumed you knew.”

Claude seems to appraise him for a second before sighing.

“Yeah, I suppose I wasn’t really… around until recently,” he muses, and leaves it at that. “It’s one of those things everyone knows so you don’t talk about it, right?”

“Right.”

“I get that,” Claude says. “I just figured you and Edelgard had beef or something, not… I dunno. That’s a big deal. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“You’re not entirely wrong. I haven’t… We haven’t really spoken outside of school since then,” Dimitri admits, not stopping to think _why_ he’s telling Claude all this. He supposes it’s better for Claude to get up to speed now than be thrown into the deep end with a much less forgiving Hresvelg-Blaiddyd later.

“Are you serious?” Claude lets out a weak chuckle.

“Mm.”

“Well. This’ll be awkward as shit then, won’t it?”

Dimitri huffs. “Undoubtedly.”

Claude leans against the car. “I _am_ sorry for prying. It’s a habit of mine. Not always a good one.”

“It’s not really prying when it’s the first thing most people know about me,” Dimitri says. “But.. thank you.”

“Yeah,” Claude chuckles again. “You know… the _actual_ first thing I knew about you was that you ate grass on a dare in first year?”

The tension eases, Dimitri lets out a startled laugh. “That’s a _rumour_.”

Claude laughs too—properly, with a little snort and everything—and Dimitri is struck by the thought that it’s the first time he hasn’t feared the laughter being at his expense.

He’s caught up in the sudden idea that maybe this won’t be too bad. Maybe this could be okay. As awkward as everything in that conversation had been, it had turned out okay in the end. Maybe the same could be said about the weekend?

Dimitri settles into the front seat while Claude eases himself into the back. Before Rodrigue has even pulled away, there’s a disembodied hand reaching forward across the centre console.

“You want a worm?” Claude asks from behind Dimitri. He shakes a bag of gummy worms.

 _Olive branch,_ Rodrigue mouths.

Dimitri picks a blue one and tries to ignore the way Rodrigue is smiling.

* * *

Ailell Pass is not a “town” in any stretch of the word and Edelgard will not call it such. In her experience a town has to have _things_ in it, like multiple buildings and people and more than one road.

Edelgard stands in front of the not-town’s only visible grocery store—which is more of a small convenience store and also, possibly, a café—and debates buying what is so boldly advertised as ‘THE BEST PIE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD’ on the outside of the sliding door.

She’s almost ready to commend the not-town’s dedication to making the most of the limited real estate present in the mountain pass. Immediately across the road from the grocery store is a Garreg National Park visitors centre that appears to double as a museum _and_ a pub. Next to it is a cramped-looking youth hostel, taller than it is wide. Down the street a little is a gas station with a single pump, and way down at the entrance to the not-town proper is a small power station.

There is also no one around, which would be less disconcerting if Edelgard’s father hadn’t left as soon as he’d dropped her off, without checking to see if their guide was there (which she wasn’t) or they were even in the right place (they were, but the doubt was still there for a second).

But Ailell Pass cannot be blamed for its lack of town-like qualities, as it is more a pit stop for travellers heading into the park than an actual place to live. It’s nestled at the feet of the mountains that make up Garreg National Park, buttressed against the lush forests, rivers, and glacially carved valleys Edelgard will be spending the next two and a half days in.

So, it’s not so much a _town_ as it is a gateway to the worst weekend of her life thus far. Excellent. They should put that on the postcards.

Idly, Edelgard reaches into her pocket and retrieves her phone.

**Bernie [20 new messages]**

Oh. She opens her messages.

**Bernie:** and that’s why even if the water looks clean the dysentery risk can still be orders of magnitude higher.

 **Bernie:** edelgard?

 **Bernie:** oh god did it happen already?

 **Edelgard:** Sorry, I was out of cell reception for a little while.

 **Edelgard:** I’m not going to get dysentery. Don’t worry. If I am reading the brochure right we will be in tents one night and in a cabin for the second night. It’s hardly going to be drinking out of a stream.

 **Bernie:** u should get a filter anyway just in case. is there a store?? pls!

Edelgard looks over her shoulder to the store. The lights are on inside, and the sliding door is being propped open with a charming terracotta gnome, but it still seems a little eerie.

**Edelgard:** yes

 **Bernie:** do it for me pls it will make me feel a lot better <3

Edelgard gives in and goes inside the store.

The shelving in the convenience store section of the building is only about chest height, making the entire room is visible from just about anywhere. Edelgard supposes this is advantageous to the store’s owner—wherever they are—as it probably makes shoplifting a little harder. As if anyone was going to shoplift all the way out here.

She looks around for a few minutes, browsing out of date magazines, overpriced keychains, and eventually finding the camping supplies section. She hones in on a cheap bottle filter quickly, and brings it over to the still-vacant front counter.

She rings the bell and waits. After a few moments, an actual living human man appears from a back room she tries to supress her shock.

“Morning, lass,” the man says. He looks about 60, with thin, grey hair and a polar fleece despite the warmth. “What can I get you?”

“Just this please,” Edelgard replies, placing the filter on the counter.

The man raises a bushy eyebrow. “You going up the valley?”

Edelgard nods “Yes. With a few... friends of mine.” She ignores how the sentence falls awkwardly from her lips.

“You’d best be careful, then,” the man says with a toothy grin. “It’s set to storm tonight.”

Edelgard grips the straps of her pack a little tighter and frowns. _That was ominous,_ she thinks.

Her solitude in this town has been novel up until now, but now it’s starting to make her wary. The man grins, and she becomes acutely aware of how alone she is in this place.

“We’ve been informed that the weather is supposed to be quite reasonable,” she remarks plainly. “The weather report seems to agree.”

“Weather changes quick up here,” the man warns. “You want jerky?”

Edelgard is so caught up in calming herself through the moment that she almost misses his last statement. “E-Excuse me?”

“Jerky.” The man points to a small box on the counter, containing wrapped strips of beef jerky. “We’re doing a special with each purchase.”

Edelgard blanches, and finds herself nodding, if for no other reason than just… getting out of this odd interaction quicker.

“Have a safe trip,” the man says. Edelgard nods and leaves as quick as her feet can take her.

Edelgard is halfway across the street to the visitors centre when her phone rings.

The Caller ID brings the screen to life, displaying a heavily filtered picture of Dorothea with her cheek smushed up against Edelgard’s, a million stickers of smiley faces and hearts floating around their heads.

Edelgard breathes an audible sigh of relief.

“Thank God it’s you,” she greets, pressing the phone to her ear and flopping down onto the steps of the centre.

Dorothea’s laugh is a balm to her anxieties. “How’s my _favourite_ wilderness explorer this morning? You sound frazzled.”

“Fine.”

“Are the others there yet?”

“No, but I _am_ a little early, I—There was a weird shop owner I had an odd conversation with, but other than that there’s no one…”

“Oh? Are you alright?”

Edelgard begins to pick at the aglets on her new boots. She’s not looking forward to breaking them in. “Yes, don’t worry. What are you doing?”

“Ah!” Dorothea exclaims brightly. “We invited Sylvain and Hilda over to the common room! We’re using their Find My Friends to ping you all. We’re pretty sure Dimitri and Claude are _carpooling—_ if you can believe that.”

Edelgard can’t help the smile that breaks across her face. “You’re joking.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Dorothea says gravely. “That, or Claude has killed Dimitri, stolen his phone, and is coming for you.”

“Oh? I must be ready to retaliate, then.”

“I do hope you’re not serious. There are too few pretty boys in the world, Edie. You can’t rid us of nice faces just because they belong to idiots.”

“The court will take your argument into consideration.” Edelgard lays back against her pack, staring up at the blue sky above the not-town. It’s a beautiful day. Under any other circumstances she might have enjoyed spending it hiking.

“Jokes aside,” Dorothea says, voice suddenly stern. “Are you okay? For real?”

“I’m great,” Edelgard sighs. “Super excited for two and a half days galivanting with my estranged step-brother and _Claude_.”

“The fact you can say his name like an insult is incredibly charming,” Dorothea says. “But I don’t know… maybe you can un-estrange Dimitri! That could be nice, right?”

“Mm. Funny.”

Dorothea snorts. “At risk of sounding like Annette I _do_ hope you three come out of this with at least a… better _understanding_ of each other.”

“I am not so conceited as to _not_ want that,” Edelgard says a little defensively. “I’m just being realistic.”

“Well, as long as you three behave long enough to keep your positions I’m fine with whatever happens.”

“I would be okay with Dimitri and Claude flunking _this_ particular test.”

“Fair, but sports day wouldn’t be _quite_ the same without you three trying to behead each other—Ah!!”

Dorothea lets out a yelp and there’s a rustle as the phone is tugged from her hands.

“Edelgard! Hello! It is Petra!” chirps a new voice.

“Hello, Petra,” Edelgard says with a smile. “How are you? Is Dorothea okay?”

“I am well!” Petra exclaims. “Do not worry, I am just borrowing the phone from Dorothea to tell you that Dimitri and Claude are almost being where you are!”

There’s another rustle.

“Are they carpooling?! Edie you have to tell me!” Dorothea yells into the receiver.

Edelgard looks up to the entrance to not-town and, sure enough, a dark car is pulling around the corner. As it pulls closer, she recognises it as Rodrigue’s.

It pulls to a stop outside the centre. The front doors open first, revealing Dimitri and Rodrigue, and—true to Dorothea’s word—Claude Riegan climbs out of the back.

And they’re wearing…

“Oh for God’s sake,” Edelgard mutters. “We’ve colour-coordinated.”

She barely hears Dorothea’s laugh and call for good luck before she hangs up.

Of the three of them, she firmly believes herself to be the best prepared one. Her father had not been happy about the situation, but had conceded in his typical politician fashion that it would be better to nip this in the bud before the school took any real action. So she had been packed into a car and driven straight to the mall, walking out three hours later with brand new boots, thermal leggings, a hat, a pack, a windbreaker, and all manner of other camping detritus.

Dimitri looks much the same—wearing practical clothing and sturdy boots, carrying a well-worn pack and topping the whole thing off with an ageing but decent looking blue jacket.

Claude, on the other hand, has apparently shown up today in just track pants, work boots, and a faded yellow t-shirt that reads ‘Little Wyverns Junior Archery Club 2019’.

She may have lost the paint war, but at least in this respect she’s winning against them now. She takes a moment to imagine tonight when Claude inevitably gets cold— _oh no,_ she will say, _I’m sorry but I have only brought enough cold-weather gear for myself, perhaps next time you will be more prepared?_

“Good morning,” Edelgard greets, as pleasantly as she can muster, jogging over to meet them.

“Good morning,” Dimitri replies, as awkwardly as he can, apparently. “Is our guide here yet?”

“No,” she says simply. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Oh.”

Claude ducks his head out from behind the car, where he’s tying a long, thin bag to the side of his pack.

“Really _buzzing_ over this riveting discussion,” he says, “but is _anyone_ here? This place looks dead.”

“There’s a man in the convenience store,” Edelgard remarks. “I haven’t seen anyone else.”

“Do you want me to stay until your guide shows up?” Rodrigue asks, drawing Edelgard’s attention to him for the first time.

He’s unchanged from the last time she’d seen him in earnest. That had been a long time ago; while the accident had slammed a wall between Edelgard and Lambert’s circle of people, the curtain had been slowing closing well before that. The last time she had really spent time with the Fraldariuses she had been in elementary school.

Rodrigue is the same. Maybe a little greyer, a little more weary. She won’t blame him for that.

“I think we will be fine,” she says. “Thank you, Rodrigue.”

“Not a problem,” Rodrigue nods to Dimitri. “Are you okay if I leave?”

Dimitri flushes a little under the scrutiny, but he nods. “I think we’ll be fine. You have work anyway.”

“Alright. You kids have fun then. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

The boys say their thank-yous and wave to Rodrigue as he drives away. Edelgard contemplates waving, too, but gives up on it.

 _Be nice,_ she thinks. _You have to get through this._

Edelgard watches Claude’s eyes skip from Dimitri’s blue jacket to Edelgard’s red windbreaker to his own faded yellow shirt.

He looks up with a grin.

“Cool! We coordinated!”

Edelgard walks away.

They’re bored for long enough that they decide to get pies, but they decide against eating them inside the café. The weird guy is still there and tries to sell the boys more jerky. They opt to sit on the steps of the visitor’s centre, so they can have a clear view of the road into not-town while they eat.

Edelgard is beginning to heavily regret coming here as early as she had.

“I wouldn’t say these are the best pies in the world,” Dimitri muses aloud. Claude laughs, and it actually seems genuine. Edelgard pays attention after that.

“Maybe it’s the best in the county or something?”

“I’ve had better pies in town.”

Edelgard grits her teeth at the needless chatter. How is she the only one panicking right now? She grips her pie a little too tight, sending the meat oozing out the sides a little. 

“We need to talk about what we’re going to do before our guide shows up," she cuts in. 

The boys fall silent.

“What do you mean?” Dimitri asks.

“I’m with boy wonder,” Claude says. “I was under the impression we were going to get through this and then pretend it never happened. I didn’t realise we had a _plan_.”

“I just mean we need to be on the same page about all this,” Edelgard continues. “The simple fact is that, as we are now, we’re not going to pass this course.”

She isn’t so sure about that, honestly, what with how Dimitri and Claude are currently dusting off a bag of gummy worms together like old friends. But she doesn’t want to admit that, in terms of interpersonal relationships, she might be the weak link here.

“I think we can,” Claude wagers. “How hard can it be to behave?”

Edelgard finds herself scoffing. “With each other? Claude, it hasn’t even been a _week_ since you dumped paint on me and called me a fascist.”

“Okay but that was hardly the worst thing that we said,” Claude says defensively, but there’s an amused streak in it that irks Edelgard immeasurably. “Dimitri was calling for your head.”

Dimitri grimaces. “That was a… a metaphor.”

Claude laughs. “For _what?”_

“Stop!” Edelgard says firmly, trying not to shout and… somewhat succeeding. “We need to take this _seriously_. I will _not_ allow your tomfoolery to lose me my position.”

Ever since their meeting in Seteth’s office, Edelgard had been plagued by worry. She didn’t know why Dimitri and Claude were clinging to their titles like limpets, but she knew why _she_ was—she had reasons for wanting to be head girl that went beyond the whims of idiots like the boys next to her.

Claude’s expression darkens.

“I _am_ taking this seriously,” he says.

Edelgard rolls her eyes. “Are you?”

“ _Screw me_ if I don’t want to spend this entire trip bemoaning my _awful_ life!” Claude hisses. “Don’t act like you’re above us.”

Edelgard opens her mouth to retaliate, when:

“I can see what you mean, Edelgard.” Dimitri says calmly, cutting through the argument like a knife through butter. He was good at that. “We’re really going to fail this, aren’t we?”

“What?” Edelgard and Claude snap at the same time. Dimitri doesn’t flinch. He just stares straight ahead and takes a bite out of his pie. 

“We haven’t even been talking about this for a minute and we’re already arguing,” he mutters through the pastry. “Did you know Felix put ten dollars on me killing you two? I’m starting to think you might get to me first.”

“It seems more statistically likely,” Claude mumbles, but is heart isn’t really in the jab anymore. “There _are_ two of us.”

They sit in silence for a while. Eating pie. Not talking.

The wind blows through the trees. Edelgard glances over at the boys, all of them sporting their houses’ colours. They look like generals on their last ride—leaders heading to their last battle—morons, two verses deep in their swan song.

Edelgard doesn’t want this to be the last time she wears her colours—she can’t have it be that. She has too much she wants to do with the small scrap of power the position of head girl affords her. She can’t lose that now.

But her temper threatens to get the better of her, and it seems to do so with impunity. How can she hold onto her title if she can’t keep a hold on her emotions?

Edelgard sighs. “We have… strong personalities,” she concedes.

“That’s a fun way of saying we’re terribly incendiary and confrontational people who barely know each other.”

Dimitri shrugs Claude’s remark off, and Edelgard meets his eyes for the first time that day.

“We don’t have to get along,” he says, and there’s a glint of something clever in his eyes she doesn’t remember from when they were young. “We just have to _look_ like we’re getting along.”

Edelgard feels her lips quirk into a smile and quickly stifles it. “We are decent liars, if nothing else,” she muses. “We managed to go three months before Seteth caught on to us.”

Dimitri pulls his eyes away first, and Edelgard is left staring at him. He’s older, obviously. She knows that, but she hasn’t actually _looked_ in a long time—at his blonde hair and watery blue eyes and the thin scars tracing up his collarbone that weren’t there Before.

She pulls her eyes away and meets Claude’s instead—he’s a boy who _likes_ to be looked at, unlike her stepbrother, she knew that about him the moment she first met him. His eyes are clever ones, and they hold mirth when he looks back at her now.

“So we’ll act like the best of friends when our babysitter is looking?” Claude announces with a grin. “ _I’ll_ stop making dumb jokes that make Edelgard want to break me in half.”

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. “I’ll stop… wanting to break you in half?”

“I’ll try not to have a mental breakdown,” Dimitri adds.

“Dimitri will do that,” Claude nods. “You two will actually make sustained eye contact with each other for once—”

If he notices the way Edelgard and Dimitri bristle, he doesn’t indicate it.

“—and then we’ll go back to school and pretend none of this ever happened. Like the liars we are.”

Silence hangs again. Edelgard wants so badly to wipe the smug smile off Claude’s face, but there’s more riding on this that her comfort—this is about opportunity and reputation and keeping a hold on what she has.

She smiles. He smiles back. Dimitri takes another contemplative bite of pie. To any outsider they’d look like a group of friends getting reading for a getaway in the forest, three teens, as thick as thieves, sharing laughs on the steps of a quaint little centre in a quaint little town.

 _We’re good liars,_ she thinks.

“Sure.”

* * *

**EMERGENCY WEATHER WARNING FOR OFF SEASONS TRAILS**

GARREG NATIONAL PARK – WEST AIRMID VALLEYS AND MYRDDIN SADDLE:

  * New weather data indicates high possibility of sudden heavy rain in the area over weekend. High risk of flooding due to increase in snowmelt & glacial runoff. River levels expected to rise.
  * Such changes to the track may make portions of the saddle ascent impassable due to bridge closures and track flooding. Hikers are advised to delay plans or seek IMMEDIATE shelter if weather changes.



For more information, the National Parks Service can be contacted toll free at 0800 55 09 43 or at www.nationalparksservice.com/garreg/contact-us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we smell... danger??
> 
> This chapter has a lot of chekov's guns but not a lot of hiking? next time for sure. 
> 
> For reference, "pie" in this fic refers to [this.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meat_pie_\(Australia_and_New_Zealand\)) They are NOT eating full ass American pies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there's hiking in this one!

Claude’s first day at Garreg Mach High School had felt not unlike falling. 

Not falling in that he’d been _hopelessly plummeting to his death_ or anything so dramatic. Rather, it had been the feeling of having no sturdy ground under his feet, nothing to his sides to hold on to, and nothing above to look to. He’d felt as foreign in those halls as he had in the country itself—exposed, as if to the elements.

Exposure is not something he’s unfamiliar with, nor is it something he enjoys. 

Walking the dappled trails of Garreg National Park with his fate two-thirds in the hands of his greatest academic rivals, who cannot seem to stop fucking _glaring_ at each other despite their previous promise to behave, invokes a similar feeling. Falling. 

Claude has never been one to _entrust_ lightly, especially not anything _this_ important with anyone _this_ untrustworthy.

So, while some distant part of Claude wants to try and enjoy this romp through a corner of the countryside he hasn’t seen, most of his brainpower is being dedicated to fretting over the status of Operation: Don’t Get Fired.

The first part of the operation is dealing with Grace. 

Grace, their counsellor-slash-trail guide-slash-babysitter, doesn’t seem to be as concerned about group behaviour as Claude does, but he won’t discredit her just yet. While she had waltzed into Aillel Pass forty minutes late like a vision of white veganism, soccer-mom enthusiasm, and too much tie-dye, she seems to be a lot more shrewd than he wants her to be. 

“—and that’s why most of the trees in this area are conifers,” she says, “but upriver you’ll find more native trees.”

And a lot more… tree-focused. 

“That’s pretty interesting,” Claude lies.

As the afternoon sun rises high above the trees (which are only _mostly_ conifers), the trio and Grace make their way from the trailhead to the steady path into the valley. Grace is an easy talker, so the few hours it takes for them to get to their first rest stop fly by. 

As she continues to talk about trees, Claude doesn’t miss her small glances back at his counterparts. Claude follows her line of sight, nervously hoping the invisible storm clouds brewing over the siblings ( _Ex-siblings!_ Snaps a little Edelgard in his head) aren’t as noticeable as he thinks they are. 

So far, he’s been doing the heavy lifting in their three-way fake friendship pact, which he’s not entirely opposed to. Dimitri can’t foot-in-mouth disease their way to social banishment if Claude is _constantly_ distracting him, nor can Edelgard belligerently argue the boys into early graves if Claude makes sure she never has a minute alone with them. 

Speaking of… 

He spins around. “Hey, you two, want to play a game?”

“Don’t walk backwards,” Dimitri warns. “You’ll trip.”

_Oh! Boring!_

“He’s right,” Grace says because she’s also boring. Claude puts his hands up. “Alright, gotcha.”

Instead, he falls back into step with his fellow house leaders.

“Not even I-Spy?” he asks. He almost _hears_ Edelgard’s eye roll.

“I-Spy is pointless if we’re moving,” she says. “It narrows the range of things we can spot and makes the game too repetitive—” Good point, actually, but Claude will die before he admits it “—Also, I don’t want to play I-Spy with you.” Bad point!

“Boo. I spy something beginning with ‘B’.”

Edelgard shoots him a dirty look and keeps her mouth shut, but Dimitri bites.

“Bird?” he ventures, looking up in the trees where a smattering of chirping woodland creatures watch them walk by with beady eyes.

“Nope,” Claude says. “Nice try.”

“Backpack?” Dimitri tries again. Claude shakes his head.

Edelgard is clearly trying to hold back her anger and Claude knows why. She wants to take this “seriously”, and her version of that is a steadfast monument he, in her eyes, vandalises with every blasé word that leaves his mouth.

He won’t pretend it doesn’t irk him to see her act like it’s ruining her life to see him be a little weird with his. But it’s par for the course; Edelgard had decided to hate him the moment she met him, and he can only respond in kind. 

“Ah! _Betula papyrifera!”_ Grace exclaims suddenly. “The paper birch tree!”

Claude meets her eager expression with a grin of his own and she laughs. “Nice choice, Claude!”

 _“How were we supposed to get that?”_ Edelgard hisses under her breath.

Claude smirks. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy visibly plotting your step-brother’s murder, you would have learned about it from our dear guide here,” he whispers.

Edelgard harumphs and Claude doesn’t have to look at Dimitri to know he’s blushing. With his work done, he peels himself away from the siblings and meanders back to Grace’s side.

Claude did not come to Garreg Mach to make friends, which is another thing he’ll never say out loud because it sounds like something a contestant on a bad reality show might say immediately before being eliminated.

Late transfers like him, who enter the delicate ecosystem of public school at the last possible minute, are at risk of falling apart easily. In a school like Garreg Mach, located in a tight-knit city where half the graduating class had known each other since kindergarten, Claude had been fresh-faced, friendless and _falling_.

He’d been pleasantly surprised, though, at how wholeheartedly the Golden Deer had welcomed him into their fold. He’d soundly found a place with them and their strangeness, so much so that by the end of the year his election as a head boy had been a non-starter among the student body.

The role had been welcome and more helpful to his goals than he could have imagined, but he hadn’t been expecting it, so by the time he’d been thrown into student council he’d done a bang-up job of only ingratiating himself with a third of the school—Edelgard and Dimitri and their cohort had been unknowns, bastions of overachievement and seriousness Claude hadn’t wanted to touch with a ten-foot pole.

He doesn’t _know_ them—his conversation with Dimitri this morning had been enough evidence to that fact—and they don’t know him, either. Edelgard’s stoic demeanour wants so desperately to butt against what she perceives to be his lacking work ethic, and though Dimitri has proven himself to be surprisingly perceptive and far less of the simple jock Claude had initially taken him for, he won’t entertain the idea that Prince Charming isn’t seeing a slacker when he looks at him, same as his sister.

Claude looks over his shoulder, where Edelgard and Dimitri walk as far apart from each other as is acceptable under the dappled light of the canopy above, making the opposite of eye contact with each other.

They’re so caught up in themselves that smiles are enough to fool them into thinking Claude doesn’t give a shit about anything.

But the truth?

The truth is he’s got more riding on this than he would ever be willing to admit… and he’s terrified of fucking it up. 

It could be worse, though. At least no one is threatening murder. 

_Yet._

When they finally get to their lunch spot—a flat meadowed area that overlooks a bend in the valley’s river—it’s only a small consolation for Claude to be able to put his feet up. Edelgard and Dimitri are _still_ stewing, and any signs of civilization have been gone for hours now. It’s starting to feel a little first-few-chapters-of- _Lord of the Flies—_ the bit just before everything pops off and pig heads start going on pikes—which Claude would find funny if not for the fact he’s definitely the Simon in this scenario.

 _Don’t they get it?_ He thinks incredulously. Grace isn’t stupid; If her day job is noticing when kids aren’t getting along, she’s sure as shit noticing _this_. 

After distributing very disappointing packed lunches, Grace claps her hands. 

“Alright, team!” she chirps. “I gave a small introduction before, but welcome to the program proper! Do you have any questions before I go over our first activity?”

They all shake their heads. 

“Great! So just some ground rules…” Grace starts reading from a piece of paper in her notebook. “There will be no physical fighting, yelling, or throwing things during our time together. Got it?”

Claude privately smiles. He can’t imagine this devolving into physical fighting, but it’s a fun mental image to try and think about who’d win a three-way fight between them. 

“Everything of a personal nature must remain confidential,” Grace adds. “This is a time for open communication, but that shouldn’t mean you three can head home and tell all your friends things each other said in private. Common courtesy, yeah?”

“What happens in the forest stays in the forest?” Claude offers. 

“Exactly!” Grace smiles. “And one last thing, just policy; no weapons, alcohol, or drugs— _besides_ prescription drugs, Dimitri, yes, but I will be holding on to those—are we clear there? I don’t expect you to _have_ any of that stuff but I just have to say it anyway.”

_Oh no._

It’s not like she’s going to do a bag check… right?

“Crystal clear, Grace,” Claude says. 

She grins. “Okay! So let’s start by going around the circle and—”

Claude blanches, and sees the other two do the same in his peripheral. “Wait, we’re doing circle time?” he blurts out. “I thought this was supposed to be a camping retreat.”

“This is a retreat designed to foster team-building and communication between young people,” Grace says with the air of someone who has had to say this exact thing many times. “So yes, there is ‘circle time’. I’ll be assessing you on how well you all communicate and work with each other and will be relaying that information to your school administrators after the course is complete. Does that make sense? This was all in the brochure.”

They all shut their mouths.

“Great!” Grace claps her hands again. “Let’s go around the circle and tell each other something we might not know about each other! I’ll go first! My name is Grace Chesterfield, I’m forty-one, and I enjoy birdwatching and skiing!”

Claude’s brain takes that moment to forget approximately everything about himself and his hobbies. He masks it quickly with a bite of his sandwich and an elbow in Dimitri’s ribs.

 _“Hrk.”_ The motion makes Dimitri choke on his ham and cheese.

Grace, latching onto the small noise like a hawk spotting a mouse in a field, beams.

“Go ahead, Dimitri!”

Dimitri gapes like a fish. Baleful blue eyes look around wildly for help. He swallows.

“I… Hello? My name is Dimitri, I’m seventeen, and...” he trails off and looks at Grace, who is nodding eagerly. He winces. “Uh… I like ice hockey and my favourite subject is Accounting?”

Claude wonders if he should change his mind about liking Dimitri. Accounting? Terrible.

He jumps in to rescue the poor guy, though. “Awesome! Well! My name is Claude, I’m also seventeen years old, and I’m into archery and —if we’re doing school subjects—I love me some Chemistry!”

The group turns to Edelgard. 

“My name is Edelgard Anselma Hresvelg,” she says primly. “I am seventeen years old, I enjoy debate club and portraiture.”

“What like… drawing?” Dimitri asks, mouth full of dry ham and cheese.

Edelgard narrows her eyes. Claude tenses. 

“ _Yes_ , like _drawing_ ,” Edelgard replies, barely restraining herself from spitting the last word. 

“Then why didn’t you just say drawing?” Dimitri asks. 

Grace frowns.

Holy _shit_. Claude is going to kill both of them. He’s going to take five minutes to set up the fucking bow he’s accidentally smuggled on this trip and then he’s going to shoot them in their dumb faces with it. Did anyone back at school bet on _that_ outcome? 

Too bad he’s also an idiot. 

“Anyone want to insult _my_ hobbies while we’re at it?” Claude snarks before he can stop himself. He _definitely_ deserves the death glares Dimitri and Edelgard send him. Grace is taking notes. Fuck. 

He takes another bite of his sandwich and shuts up. 

_Don’t kill the mayor’s daughter, Khalid,_ Godfrey had told him earlier in the week, _and leave the Blaiddyd kid alone, won’t you?_

It had almost been _funny_ , a little joke at his expense, delivered under the false assumption Claude was going on this trip willingly. He’d felt a little bad, lying to his family, who had been nothing but accommodating, but the reality was too _embarrassing_. 

The reality that his fate is as much in his own hands as it is Dimitri and Edelgard’s… and at this point? He doesn’t quite know which is worse. 

No murder, though. At least that’s _something_. 

He hopes it holds. 

* * *

The walk from their lunch spot to their camping spot gets a little harder. Dimitri gets a little nervous. 

The river crossings the trail is famous for begin in earnest near mid-afternoon as the valley thins and the rocky terrain closer to the imposing mountain saddle they’ll climb tomorrow rise up on either side like walls. The path zig-zags across the water to avoid steep, awkward climbing, creating a steady stream of river crossings, ranging from barely-getting-your-feet-wet to knee-high flow. 

Dimitri knows Edelgard is having a bit of trouble keeping up with them, even on the relatively flat valley floor, so about half of his mental faculties during the walk are taken up by an absolutely _gripping_ internal argument.

 _We should just ask her if she wants help,_ says Nice Dimitri, who sounds like an odd mixture of Dedue and their former head girl, Mercedes. _Sure, she’ll get mad at us and Claude will probably tease us, but at least we’ll be making her more comfortable._

 _Don’t bother,_ says Mean Dimitri, who sounds exactly like him but has an eyepatch for some reason. _If she’s going to be stubborn she can suffer in silence. We’ve been nothing but open and receptive to her at every turn._

 _Or I could do nothing,_ Regular Dimitri says, sandwiched between them.

Dimitri has no problem with hiking, especially not here; the entire day has been a trek across the valley floor, sticking close to the river. Tomorrow is projected to be harder, with a gradual climb up to a saddle and steep climb down to their second campsite, but he’ll be fine with that too.

Before the accident, Dimitri had been intensely involved in sports, and physical rehab afterwards had only attached him more firmly to a regular gym routine. It also helps that ice hockey is less of a sport and more of a competition to see how much heavy padding you can carry around while still maintaining fine motor skills, and Dimitri is pretty decent at it. 

Which is all to say he’s probably the fittest he’s ever been. This isn’t much of a challenge at all.

Claude doesn’t exactly look like someone who is particularly _strong_ but Dimitri knows he at least cycles, so he has some endurance. He’s kept up well with Grace today, drifting back and forth between their guide and his classmates like a buzzing bee whenever conversation dies on one end to pick it up on the other.

But Edelgard… she’s fallen into a silence born less of negative emotion and more of fatigue. She hangs at the back of their group, and though she tries to hide it her breath is becoming more and more laboured as they continue. Dimitri can’t help but worry for her—he knows tomorrow is just going to get harder, and so far she hasn’t asked Grace to slow down even once.

Is it a pride thing? Probably.

Oh well, he’s always been one for poking sleeping bears.

“Edelgard?” he asks quietly. Claude is busy prattling to Grace about poisonous berries, so Dimitri is confident he won’t be heard.

Edelgard looks up, blowing a strand of pale, sweaty hair out of her eyes as she does. “Yes?”

“Would you like me to carry anything for you?”

Edelgard all but scowls. “I’m fine,” she says, tugging the pack higher on her back and pushing ahead. Dimitri sighs. 

Worth a shot. 

They walk for a while longer before coming to a swing bridge. The river up to this point has been relatively wide and flat, but the character has steadily changed. Now, the river in front of them is rock-filled and roiling with the foamy residue of swift rapids. The forest encroaches right to the edges of steep, rocky inclines that dip down into the churning waters. On the far side of the swing bridge, Dimitri can see the path continue to wind deeper into the trees. 

Dimitri isn’t scared of heights on normal days, but this mismatched thing of rope and wooden slats might just change his mind. 

“Alright,” Grace says, peering up the valley to the sinking sun. “Our campsite is about a thirty-minute walk beyond this bridge. We’re going to take it slow, alright? These things are quite old.”

Edelgard is the only one who doesn’t nod. Dimitri turns and catches sight of her pale, drawn expression. She’s staring down at the water with wide eyes. She doesn’t move. 

_Are you alright, El?_ The words stick to his tongue. He says nothing. 

“Edelgard?” Grace calls. “Are you okay?”

Grace drifts to the back of the group and puts a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. Edelgard jolts. Grace says something in a hushed tone and then turns to the boys. 

“You two go on, we’ll follow after.”

Dimitri shoots one more unanswered, lingering glance at Edelgard before Claude tugs him up onto the bridge.

The thing creaks under their combined weight, and Dimitri feels the tread of his boots slip a little on the mesh grip bolted to the slats—it seems the spray from the rough waters underneath leaves the bridge perpetually slick. Great. Excellent. Awesome.

“Is this safe?” he ponders aloud, testing his footing. No unexpected bending… so... it seems steady enough?

Every step Claude takes bends the bridge a little and is horribly mistimed with Dimitri’s steps. The result is an uncomfortable, stumbling experience for both of them. 

“Think of it like this,” Claude says, moving steadily forward. “We either die here or we survive.”

“That applies to most things,” Dimitri mutters, gripping tight to the sides and willing himself not to tremble. Claude stops and looks over his shoulder. 

Dimitri doesn’t like the look on his face one bit. Those conniving green eyes dart to Grace and Edelgard, still talking on the trail, to Dimitri, then he smiles. 

Before Dimitri can stop him Claude grips the ropes tight and _jumps_ , bringing his feet down hard on the planks of the bridge. The motion jerks the entire contraption, almost knocking Dimitri’s feet out from under him. Dimitri yelps, gripping onto the ropes for dear life, and Claude cackles. 

“You boys alright!?” They hear Grace shout. 

“We’re fine!” Claude calls back. He shoots Dimitri a wink and keeps moving. 

“You know,” Dimitri grumbles, hauling himself forward, “for all your _preaching_ about being _friends_ during this, you seem to be looking for trouble.”

“What? Can’t have a little fun before Seteth throws us in the Gulag?” Claude whispers, barely audible over the rushing water below. “You’re not exactly carrying your weight here, Princey.”

Dimitri grits his teeth. That sort of nickname isn’t exactly uncommon around the school, usually directed towards him and Edelgard—but just because he’s used to the sentiment doesn’t mean he likes it. 

“Don’t,” he says warningly. “Take this seriously.”

“Take it seriously?” Claude challenges, suddenly _not_ smiling. “Think I’m a clown like your dumb sister does, then?” 

There’s something odd in his tone that Dimitri can’t identify, so he elects to ignore it. 

“I don’t think you’re a clown,” he says, cutting through the verbal barbs. “I think you’re _nervous_ , and you’re trying to get a rise out of me to deal with that.” 

Claude stills and Dimitri simply stares at him before he starts moving again. He’s slower this time… less energetic. 

They reach the other side and Dimitri breathes a sigh of relief when his feet meet the sturdy ground. They step back from the bridge and settle on the side of the track. They are silent for a while. 

“Sorry,” Claude says finally.

“It’s alright,” Dimitri replies easily because it is. He looks over his shoulder, where their stragglers are yet to get on the bridge.

“What do you think is wrong…?” He hears Claude ask behind him. “Do you think she’s scared?”

 _Probably,_ Dimitri thinks, though the Edelgard in his memory would have never been scared of something like this.

“Maybe,” he says, turning to level a stern glance at his classmate. “I don’t see how that’s our business, though.” 

“Relax, man.” Claude rolls his eyes and kicks a loose rock on the ground. “I’m just a bit worried. As much as we don’t get along I don’t want to see her freaked the fuck out this whole time… we have a lot more river crossings to go, too.”

Dimitri hums in agreement but says nothing more. He looks out to the trees surrounding them, watching the birds flit from branch to branch, knocking together in gathering wind. The silence only lasts for a moment.

“Hey, subject change,” Claude says suddenly. “Because I hate being quiet—”

Dimitri can’t help the snort that draws out of him. 

“—you know how I was talking earlier about how I’m cursed with an incessant need to ask questions?” 

Dimitri’s lips twitch. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question? You can ask me one back.” 

Dimitri hesitates, dragging his eyes to Claude for the first time in a few minutes. The other boy is leaning against a tree trunk in a show of nonchalance but his shoulders are tense. Dimitri, an expert on being nervous, recognises the gesture immediately. 

_Olive branches,_ he reminds himself. 

“Okay.”

Claude might look a little shocked, if Dimitri's eyes aren't playing tricks on him, but he recovers quickly. 

“Have you guys always been at each other’s throats like this?” He asks. He doesn’t need to say who. “I just… I want to be caught up.”

Dimitri remembers Claude’s face back at his house, when he’d revealed his lack of knowledge about the siblings’ history. _He doesn’t like to be uninformed,_ Dimitri thinks, _he likes to have all the cards._

“No,” he admits. “When… when our parents were still alive and we all lived together… we got along really well.”

“Oh. And then… after…?”

He trails off, letting Dimitri fill in the blanks. Dimitri just hums, even though the assessment isn’t entirely accurate. The truth is they’d started growing apart _before_ the accident, starting when Edelgard’s father regained custody—when she’d started spending less and less time at their little house on the hill. Less time with _him_.

“Yeah,” he says. “It was… a lot to deal with. Plus, I was in the hospital for a long time after the accident.”

He doesn’t say what kind of hospital. He’d rather let Claude assume something benign and comfortably tragic than… _explain_. Claude likes to have all the cards, but that doesn’t mean Dimitri’s just going to hand them over.

“Accident? Like a car accident, then?” Dimitri nods and Claude bites his lip. “She didn’t visit? Sorry. That might be out of line to ask…” 

“It’s alright,” Dimitri sighs. “No. She didn’t—” _Not that he could remember, at any rate._ “—but she had moved in with her dad at that point and he didn’t really… like my family much.” 

“Messy, huh?” Claude notes, sounding slightly amused. “I can relate to that a little.”

“Oh?” 

Claude makes a seesaw motion with his hand. “Let’s just say the two sides of my family don’t really like each other either.”

Dimitri blinks. “Your uncle seemed nice though,” he says. 

“Oh they’re all _nice_ ,” Claude laughs. Dimitri gets the feeling it’s not entirely genuine. “They’re just not nice to _each other.”_

“Rodrigue said your parents are overseas,” Dimitri says, because what are conversations if not you spewing every useless fact you know about a person to them to seem normal? When Claude gives him a look he continues. “He, uh, didn’t say where, though.”

“Ah!” Claude grins. “Comrade Rodrigue! Protecting my reputation as an international man of mystery, I see!” 

Dimitri smirks a little, feeling the tension from earlier slowly dissipate. 

“Is that your question?” Claude asks. It’s Dimitri’s turn to offer a confused glance. Claude smiles. “Do you want to know where my parents live?” he elaborates. 

“Uh… hmm… no,” Dimitri decides. “Uh, not that I’m not interested, I-I just—”

“It’s cool,” Claude assures, waving his hand. “Have another idea then?”

In truth, there are a lot of things Dimitri is curious about regarding Claude, now that he’s finally been forced to look at him as more of a person and less of a strange, uniformed entity he’s compelled to throw paint at. But he’s not sure he knows exactly _what_ yet. 

“Can I save it? My question, I mean.”

Claude’s smile is unreadable. 

“Sure.”

“Alright, boys!” Grace announces, having crossed the bridge with Edelgard in tow. “Let’s get going, it’s almost dinnertime!” 

Edelgard walks briskly ahead, her silvery hair snapping behind her and her fists balled. She doesn’t spare the boys so much as a glance. 

There are some questions Dimitri has for her, too, though he’s quite sure she won’t be as willing to answer them. 

They put their tents up with only minimal hassle—but Dimitri isn’t stupid enough not to realise that’s mostly because the most volatile combinations of their trio are working on different tents. While Edelgard is sleeping in the “ladies tent” with Grace, Claude and Dimitri are left to set up their two-sleeper by themselves on the other side of camp. 

Dinner preparation, similarly, goes _sort of_ smoothly. Claude and Edelgard start bickering a few times over how to correctly cook rice and beans, but a stern look from Grace silences them each time.

In the end, they manage to set up everything just as night falls. Dimitri isn’t… entirely pleased with how they’re doing. 

Saying he was going to play nice turned out to be a lot harder than he thought it’d be. There’s something about Edelgard’s attitude that’s pitted the side of him that just wants to survive this and the side of him that wants to confront her against each other like starving wolves. 

He’d decided to just shut up for the most part, in the end, because that was better than nothing. But he’s pretty sure their guide is catching on to them. 

She wants more _participation_ , that’s for sure. Dimitri, conversely, wants to die at the thought.

“So! Does anyone have any ideas for a game to play over dinner?” Grace asks later, spooning a hearty spoonful of beans into Dimitri’s plate. 

But, of course, the universe won’t just _let_ him die, will it?

“Circle time…?” Edelgard ventures in a weak voice. Grace nods eagerly. 

The three of them stifle sighs. However different they are, at least they can all agree on hating this particular part of the trip. 

“How about two truths and a lie?” Claude tosses out. “That could be interesting.”

“Good for conversation starters,” Dimitri adds uselessly. He takes a bite of his beans. Edelgard adds nothing. 

“Alright,” Grace says. “Who wants to go first… Claude?”

“Hah! No!” Claude blurts out a little too quickly. When Grace raises an eyebrow he goes a little pale, and Dimitri can only watch from outside his own body as he swoops in for a clumsy save.

“I-I can go first,” he says.

Grace nods contentedly. “Alright, go ahead!” 

Two truths and a lie… fuck. When was the last time he played something like this? What does he even say?

Dimitri looks down at his beans. 

“I have no sense of taste,” he begins. “I ate grass in my first year of high school on a dare. I chipped my tooth falling down the stairs when I was eight.

Claude gasps. “Okay. I _know_ the grass thing is true so… uh… the taste—”

“You were nine,” Edelgard says suddenly, “You didn’t chip a tooth, you lost the whole thing.”

Everyone falls silent. Only the crackling of the fire breaks the quiet of the space. 

Edelgard stays as still as stone under the scrutiny, but Dimitri can see a small smudge of redness on her cheeks in the firelight. On the other side of her, Claude’s face breaks into a disbelieving grin.

Edelgard ignores Claude, her eyes slipping to Dimitri’s with nowhere better to go. He just blinks. He hadn’t expected her to remember that—it had been so long ago and such an inconsequential thing. A trip to the dentist and a cap later and it had been like nothing. But she had been there, hadn’t she? In the back of their parent’s car with him as he cried.

“Right,” he says weakly. “Uh, yeah… that’s right.” 

The accident had driven a wedge between them… God knows how exactly, but one minute they’d been so close in Dimitri’s eyes and the next Edelgard had felt an ocean away… he’d been lost from himself for so long after. Had it been too much to expect her to be there when he returned to shore?

 _She made no effort,_ says Mean Dimitri. 

_But she remembers,_ he thinks. 

“Well done!” Grace says. “Point for Edelgard.”

Edelgard, despite the awkward air, looks pleased with having received points. At least she was still herself. 

“Well go on, _show us_ ,” Claude urges. He points to his teeth when Dimitri gives him a confused look.

“Oh.” Dimitri grits his teeth and points to his left canine. Claude leans forward in his seat to ogle at the tooth with an open curiosity Dimitri hasn’t ever seen on him before.

“Damn, so that’s fake?” It takes Dimitri a second to realise the question is aimed at Edelgard and not him. 

“Yes,” she says simply, then, “I… didn’t know you had no sense of taste, Dimitri.”

“I lost it… relatively recently,” Dimitri says, skirting the topic, but Edelgard’s eyes widen in comprehension anyway. She looks away. 

“Ooh. Lotsa unspoken implications here,” Claude notes, breaking the tension in his typical way. He shovels a forkful of beans into his mouth and grimaces at whatever the taste is. “Loving it, loving it—Edelgard, your turn.”

Edelgard thinks about it for a moment.

“Okay,” she announces, straightening up. “I cannot swim, I hate musicals with a passion, and I used to have pink hair.”

Claude looks like Christmas has come early. “I _so_ badly want the pink hair to be real. I vote for swimming.”

Dimitri knows the truth though. Of course he does. 

“You love musicals,” he says, because it’s true. In the time they’d shared a house show tunes floating down the hall from her room to his had been an inescapable facet of home life. “Musicals is the lie.”

Edelgard’s eyes are wide as she stares at him. 

“Yes,” she admits. 

She looks exactly as surprised as he just had. Dimitri wonders why he’d been shocked to find she remembered these small things about him when he obviously remembers so much about her. It hasn’t been _that_ long since the two of them were family… this should be expected, right? 

Why are they so surprised? 

Edelgard looks away first. 

“You can’t swim?” Claude asks incredulously, drawing Dimitri’s attention back to the present. 

“No,” Edelgard mutters. 

Dimitri is unsure if Claude is being obtuse on purpose, or if he’s genuinely interested in all of these things. He thinks it might be the former because he looks nervous.

 _Oh,_ Dimitri realises suddenly as Claude and Edelgard devolve into a nice, if strained, conversation about her lack of swimming skills. _He doesn’t want to risk us talking to each other._

Maybe that's a good thing. In the end. No matter how much he wants the opposite.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Grace interjects, pointing to Edelgard and Dimitri in turn, “are you two friends? I was under the impression the three of you… weren’t close, but has there been a mistake?”

“They’re step-siblings,” Claude reports through his beans.

“Ex-step-siblings,” Edelgard corrects.

Dimitri grips his fork tighter and stares down at his plate, but not before catching the affronted little glance Claude shoots in his direction.

 _Welcome to the shitshow, Riegan,_ he wants to say. It’s been a while since he’s been in a personal, casual situation with Edelgard, but her detachment is a familiar thing. He plasters on a nice smile and looks over at Grace.

“Yes, sorry,” he says. “That probably wouldn’t have been in our files, would it?”

“No!” Grace assures. “It’s just surprising, though, not a problem. We get _lots_ of siblings in our programs.”

“Ex-siblings,” Edelgard adds quietly. 

It’s full of so much conviction, Dimitri almost feels like agreeing with her. 

They end the game there for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LONG TIME NO SEE UHH- 
> 
> I’ve been trying to wrestle this chapter into submission for like… months. I ended up deciding to just split it up and post it, because if I try to pursue 100% contentment with this stuff it'll never get out there, and we're here for fun!! FUN? REMEMBER FUN???
> 
> So anyway, sorry if this chapter is a bit aimless (and riddled with errors, I'll come back when my brain is more on) we’re building up to s t u f f. 
> 
> As always, thanks for stopping by ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @fizzityuck, twitter @claregormy, or in the woods somewhere. Thanks for reading!


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